"Psychosomatic and hearsay. Not my own therefore not the truth." How narrow a view of the river ahead without reviewing the lessons from waters just traversed.
The raft carries me down the water's path, as sweet and slow as an old crooners tune. Greenery surrounds and creates a shadowed canopy. There is no need to rush for the water is going at the pace it needs. What good does it do to paddle forward frantically when one does not know what it hurries towards? It would be impossible to appreciate, then, the wonders that encompass parts of our world. I glance around. How incredible it is that pine filigree dusts the forest floor that floats by. Light beams dance through leaves and soon nothing is heard or seen that is not 100% there. The sun was brighter, the cold sound of water breaking on rocks echoes through my core. To be present in the present is special. One is almost always doomed to split thinking, worrying about the future and what past made this happen.
Instead the river continues to carry me down. The pace is slow and steady; fast enough to show progression without rushing too far ahead without the oar. However, one learns from waters well traveled how to navigate the sharp corners of life. Intuitive if eyes are kept open. Only the boat can't get you out of the water - fighting the rush with power, a paddle, and a path can.
